


Amuse-bouche

by cosmosmariner



Series: Dinner for Two [3]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 14:11:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1747475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmosmariner/pseuds/cosmosmariner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's got to be a morning after...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amuse-bouche

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted 10/11/10 at my writing journal

I woke up hearing the pop and hiss of the record player. Obviously, it had been left on all night. The room was dark. The sun was not yet up. I got out of bed, my head swimming. When I walked into the living room to turn off the record player, I noticed that my clothes were everywhere. A shoe, a sock, thrown haphazardly around the room. There was a lamp on the floor, smashed to pieces. Had I been in a fight with someone? Had someone broken into my place?

I saw the bottle of wine on the table lying on its side. I picked it up, and flashes of memory came flooding back. _Illya..._ his lips on mine, his hands searching my body. I remember shoving Illya against the wall, my hands in his hair, pulling his head back for a deep kiss. That's when the lamp was broken. Or was it? I could have been dreaming. After all, I didn't see him anywhere. He wasn't on the couch, or in the guest room. I didn't see his clothes. Was I suffering from hallucinations brought on by too much wine? It wouldn't be the first time.

I stumbled to the bathroom and turned on the light. I looked in the mirror, and to my surprise saw that I was completely nude. There were little red marks on my neck, and the slightest rash, as if I had been scraped by fine grit sandpaper. My mind was racing, thinking of Illya. His mouth all over me, being scratched lightly by the stubble that had just started to grow. I could feel the heat of his hands on my skin, the pressure of his body on mine. I could hear the groan after his release. It had to be a dream. There was no way that my feverish fantasies had come true.

It was time to go back to bed, return to this fantasy world that I had somehow created. I went back to my bedroom. The sun came through my window, the golden splashes of light softly spreading through the room. I saw that I wasn't alone.

Illya was there. His clothes were pooled at the foot of the bed, and the light shown through his hair. His hair, so many different colors, and it all came back to me. The silky texture through my fingers, the softness of his skin. I wanted to feel it again. I wanted to feel _him_ again.

I slipped back under the covers. Illya opened his eyes and gave me a slight smile. "Ma brune*."

"Illya?"

"Napoleon."

I felt unusually nervous. What did this change, if anything? Would it make things awkward between my partner and I?

My question was soon answered when Illya slid his hand behind my neck and pulled me closer. "Ah, Napoleon." He smiled again, looking impossibly young. "The poet said, 'Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?'"

"So let us continue to dream."

" _Pozhaluista**..._ " Then he kissed me.

**Author's Note:**

> *means "my dark one" in French, at least according to Google Translate. :)  
> **means "please" in Russian, spelled phonically of course.
> 
> Yes, I know that technically, an amuse-bouche is served before the meal, not afterward. But... since it's a little treat designed to stimulate the senses, I thought it might work well as the title here. Enjoy!


End file.
